One Morning
by Lady Artimes Blaine
Summary: Every night gives way to day and as dawn lightens the sky, a woman reflects on her encounter with a certain consultant detective. She holds true to her word and disappears from his life, but can she really let go of Sherlock Holmes? Will she simply walk away or will her heart draw her back into the detective's embrace? Prequel II for Two Minds, One Heart.


**Author's Rant:** I am so sorry about how late this is! I got stuck in the middle and had to work my way out of a major rut. Now that being said, I introduce Prequel II: One Morning. It is from Artimes's POV. If you have not read One Night, do so now. On with the show!

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Prequel II: One Morning

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A young crimson haired woman dozed in and out of consciousness. Her entire body felt like jelly, but she was incredibly content. Many women think of innocence as nothing more than a speed bump, but to Artimes, it was a once in a lifetime gift to be given to the man she chose. She gave her unique gift to a unique man. Said man was none other than Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in the world.

Being with him at that very moment felt so right and she wanted to cling to that singular moment in time, but the pre dawn light was filtering through the windows, dragging her into a very harsh reality that she wanted no part of. She had only promised a single night and yet her heart yearned for a single morning.

She opened her sleep laden eyes, blinking the filmy blurriness away. Sherlock's arm was wrapped around her waist in a very possessive manner and she couldn't help but smile. The consultant detective was a high functioning sociopath and they commonly were extremely possessive of the things they cared for which included people. They held onto them with such fierceness like the people that had touched them so deeply were going to disappear the moment they let go. How on earth did she fall into that category so quickly?

Artimes knew that she needed to leave and that she needed to do so before the dark haired male awoke. She shifted slightly and had to bite down on her bottom lip to hold in her whimper. The jelly like feeling she had felt before was gone, replaced by a throbbing pain that seemed to pulsate throughout her entire body, but most noticeable was the pain in her lower abdomen. The man had stamina and he certainly did a number on her body, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She carefully extracted herself from the sleeping detective; though his arms did subconsciously try to hold onto her. His possessive behavior was wreaking havoc with her mental state, stirring a longing desire to remain by his side, but she couldn't. She had made him a promise and she always kept her word, no matter how much hurt her to do so in the process.

She silently stood up, holding still a moment as the pain subsided. She exited the bedroom, gathered up her clothes, and dressed. She spied the dark, navy blue scarf Sherlock had left on the chair the previous night. She smirked slightly as she scooped it up. She then tied the scarf around her neck, admiring how it complimented her clothes. She saw no harm in keeping a little memento of their time together.

She quietly made her way back to the bedroom. For several moments, she watched him sleep, her facial features softening at how cute he looked while at rest. Moisture filled her eyes as the sun continued its ascent across the sky. She needed to leave, but her body refused to obey and her heart was aching.

How did her flat mate, Lily, manage to do this without getting attached? How could she simply walk away? Simple, she never formed any sort of connection with her lovers in the first place. It was simple flirting and the selfish desire for physical gratification, but that wasn't what happened between herself and the consultant detective.

They had talked to one another, joked together, danced together, and poured every ounce of themselves into their love making. It was all or nothing and they gave it all. Artimes had felt his loneliness, his sadness, and all the hurt he buried deep inside. He was crying inside, nothing more than a lonely little boy whose heart was too kind and gentle for such a harsh and dark world. He survived the only way he knew how by closing himself to the very emotions that made him so special.

A tear slipped down her right cheek and she wiped it away quickly, freed from her momentary paralysis. If she didn't leave right now then she never would. She knelt gently on the bed, brushed his hair away from his face, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Remember me when you dance." Artimes whispered her voice barely audible.

With that, she left the room. She put on her fingerless gloves roughly, ignoring the slight pain from the action. She walked towards the small table in front of the couch and picked up the black motorcycle helmet. She simply stared at it as her fingers stroked the smooth surface. Her eyes softened when she realized that she would never let anyone else where the helmet. Glancing at the scarf, she smiled softly. She lowered the helmet back onto the table. She would leave it for him as his memento.

She glanced around the flat, her eyes glazing over as she recalled how they danced. It felt so right being in his arms. She felt safe, which was something she hadn't felt since she was a child. Her eyes cleared when she heard soft sounds from below. It sounded like the shuffling of feet and the clinking of glass…no, it was china. If memory served then it was probably Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's landlady.

Artimes walked out the living room and made her way downstairs, already expecting some type of interlude. Hopefully she could keep it brief.

"Who are you?" The elder woman asked.

She glanced at the woman who was holding a tray with all the makings of morning tea and biscuits. She could answer the woman's question in so many ways, but decided that the simplest response would be most suitable.

"A friend." Artimes answered her eyes kind and unknown to her, very sad.

She turned and walked away before the elder woman could form a reply, exiting to the street. She fished her keys out and slid them into the ignition as she straddled the bike. She put on her helmet, revved the bike to life, and took one final look at 221B Baker Street. It felt like her heart was being ripped out her chest as she slid the visor of her helmet close. With the last remnants of her willpower, she drove away, ignoring the tears that flowed down her face, hidden from the rest of the world.

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Artimes arrived outside the one story home she shared with her best friend, Lily Malderan. Lily was a scatter brained though highly intelligent young woman with light brown hair and blonde highlights. Her eyes were the color of the forest and she had a chatter box for a mouth. The spunky young woman was a riot to be around and was the beacon of light that drew her away from the darkness that the world had thrust upon her.

She had met her sometimes ditzy flat mate during her _old_ life. Lily had surprised her by not being afraid of the crimson haired woman and even smiled at her after witnessing the devastation that had happened around her. The light of the young woman's smile had revealed a rather large and gaping hole in Artimes's heart and Lily somehow wormed her way past all her defenses and helped fill the emptiness inside her. Artimes gave up _that_ life to stay with Lily and she was all the better for it.

Her elder brother, Trinity, still applied their former trade, mostly to protect her and Lily. He did not spurn her for her choice to give up the trade. In fact, he was immensely relieved and said her heart was too kind for the profession the siblings had been forced into for the sake of their survival. It was no longer required for them to continue, but they had until Artimes found Lily. Now, Trinity checked up on them from time to time, asked for assistance very rarely, and made certain the pair had more funds than what they knew to do with.

Artimes crept quietly into the house, praying to God that her best mate was asleep. It was quite common for the red head to take a drive on her motorcycle at odd hours of the night, but she had always returned home before the sun rose.

She had no desire to inform the brunette about her dealings with the consultant detective. It was not out of shame or embarrassment, but out of respect for Sherlock. Lily had long ago mastered the art of the one night stand and was commonly gushing about the experience the next morning, much to Artimes's chagrin. She refused to dishonor her time with the detective. He was not some piece of meat or just some random guy. He was her first and if she had her way, he would be her first and only lover.

She walked silently through the living room, not turning any lights on. She stopped about halfway when the lamp was turned on, followed by a conspicuous throat clearing. She quickly schooled her features and faced her slightly perturbed flat mate who was sitting on their sky blue couch.

"I know you like driving at night because of the sense of freedom it gives you, but you could at least text me and let me know that you'll be later than usual. I was up for the last several hours because you were majorly late. Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Lily chastised her eyes a mixture of worry and relief.

Lily always did mother her too much, but she hadn't intended for this to happen, it just did.

"I apologize for the lateness of the hour and the worry I have caused you. I lost track of time." Artimes answered honestly.

In all fairness, one did not mark or perceive the passage of time whilst in the throes of soul bearing love making. Simply recalling the memories of her time with Sherlock made her lower body ache; out of remembrance of the pain or out of longing for his touch, she did not know.

Lily's eye narrowed in suspicion as she sensed the shift in her friend. Lily was quite perceptive, shockingly so despite her spontaneity and ditzyness.

"You lost of track of time?" She echoed disbelief and incredulity colored her tone.

Artimes was extremely punctual, be it private or business, and she always arrived on time or early for scheduled events and appointments. For her to lose track of time was like a sign of the apocalypse, in Lily's eyes at least.

"I have my moments, Lily. One cannot be perfection every single moment of every single day. I am human." She answered smiling slightly.

The brunette stared at her crimson haired friend, her forest green eyes trying to catch a flicker of the truth or the gleam of a silent secret. Artimes simply held her gaze, her eyes dancing with humor at her friend's determination. Finally, the brunette let out an exasperated sigh and laid down on the couch.

"Fine, Miss Silver Tongue. You'll tell me when you're ready. Now, I'm sleepy and I have not had nearly enough beauty sleep for my liking. Good night, Artimes." Lily replied stifling a yawn as her eyes drift close.

Artimes drew closer to the couch and pulled the blanket off the back. She draped it over her sleepy flat mate.

"Good morning, Lily." The red head corrected softly.

"Semantics." The brunette mumbled snuggling into the blanket.

Artimes's eyes softened as she brushed some hair away from Lily's face. She then left her best friend to her _beauty_ sleep and entered her bedroom. She removed her gloves, jacket and boots, tossing them to the side. She removed the scarf and laid it gently by her pillow. She turned around and headed to the bathroom. The door clicked softly and she turned on the shower.

She took off her clothes and hissed at the pain emanating from her nether regions. She was incredibly sore and it was a miracle she could walk straight, but she didn't regret the actions that had led to the pain she now experienced. She remembered how his hands had felt on her heated skin; every touch, every glide, every caress. The fire erupted within her body and pooled in between her legs.

Her body was beyond tired and yet it wanted more, more of him, more of his touch, and well it just wanted him period, all of him. She forcibly ripped herself away from those thoughts and squashed them into obscurity. She checked the temperature of the water before stepping inside. The tension and soreness eased under the warmth of the cascading water.

Without realizing, her mind drifted back to that night and she remembered his eyes, those steel blue eyes that said so much to her and revealed so little to everyone else. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul and in this particular case, they were right. She had seen everything in his eyes; what he showed on the surface, what he tried to hide, and most importantly, what his soul was longing for.

His eyes called to her and she answered. She gave him what his soul was longing for, complete freedom and total acceptance. She had touched his soul and yet she knew, if the pain was anything to go by, he had touched hers. Moreover, he accepted what he had found within her and he did not turn away. No one had ever looked so deeply, no one had seen the core of who she was, but he did and embraced it.

She wondered why she had stopped to speak with him. She was not known for her spontaneity or acting on an impulse or whim. She would, however, admit that she did follow her instincts. It was as if every fiber of her being was demanding for her to stop and stop she did. She was not a believer of destiny and believed that everyone determined their own fate, but that night was strange. It was like she was being guided to him.

When she had looked into his eyes for the first time, her heart had clenched tightly making it hard for her to breathe. He was so alone and so very lost. She doubted that anyone else would have noticed the bone crushing emptiness in his eyes or how his soul was crying out for someone to be there. Fortunately for him, she wasn't just anyone. The entire conversation had been highly amusing due to his reactions and facial expressions. He seemed honestly surprised that she could read him so well.

The ride back to Baker Street had been complete and total torture. He had been so close to her and she had felt every contour of his torso and abdomen. He was hiding one hell of a body under those clothes of his. When their hands touched while trying to open the door, it felt like every nerve in her body had received a large jolt of adrenaline. Her senses sharpened and she became aware of him on a whole new level. His scent was masculine, but not musty, more like musk. It was just enough to make her feel slightly intoxicated.

Their eyes did not waver and she saw the flash of recognition in his eyes as he realized she was dangerous and yet there was no fear in those steely depths rather...excitement. She came to the conclusion that she was a mystery to him and he wanted to solve that mystery. He was excited by the challenge she presented. He was such an odd man.

His flat had been absolutely adorable and clearly male. When she had caught sight of his violin, she had the sudden desire to hear him play. She was a lover of classical music; particularly the violin and the piano. Then he asked if she liked dancing. Curiosity drove her to challenge him and he accepted.

When the notes began to float through the air, he had pulled her to him. She had fit so perfectly with him that it genuinely surprised her and when they danced, it was like they had been partners their whole lives. She realized that the music she was listening to was from a single violin, meaning a single musician. She put the pieces together as her eyes glowed with happiness. He had no doubt written and played the simple waltz and it made her very happy.

Surprise was the flavor of the evening when he had kissed her unexpectedly, but she returned his kiss with equal fervor. Her mind was jumbled, running solely on instinct alone. The desire to erase his sadness, his loneliness, and his pain became so intense that she offered the one thing she thought she never would…herself.

She gave herself freely to him and he, in turn, gave to her. Neither held anything back and it felt like their hearts had merged into one, if only for a few short hours.

Artimes growled in annoyance as she turned off the water and exited the shower. She couldn't get Sherlock out of her head and to be honest, she didn't want to but she needed to. She dried off quickly and slipped into her sleep wear. She picked up the scarf and held it to her chest.

She had promised him one night and she wanted one morning. One morning to look into those steel blue eyes, to see if she had truly saved him, but she couldn't. She would hold true to her word, her heart be damned. She crawled under the covers and as she began to drift, a stray thought crossed her mine. A thought she actually liked.

Sherlock Holmes was the slayer of dragons and she was a shadow…a lightning shadow, _his Lightning Shadow_.

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**Author's Rant:** I hope you all enjoyed One Morning. Coming Soon: Two Minds, One Heart. Also, if you recall, Janine was technically Sherlock's first in the series, but in this story, it's Artimes. *snickers* Sorry Janine, she beat you to it. Also please note the term Lightning Shadow, this will come into play at some point. I think that is everything. Laters!


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